𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝑨𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑, peter pevensie

𝒙𝒙𝒙𝒊 . . . the little things in life

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒 from going to one of the five respected and prophesized rulers of a fantastical land to tiny insignificant pawns of a chess game in the eyes of a war dictated country, was, inevitably, going to be hard. Charlotte was being uncharacteristically naïve in believing it would only take a few weeks for the change to settle back down.

It didn't take a few weeks like she thought, but two or three months.

Lucy grew agitated on a regular basis as an eight year old was never listened to by a grumbling house keeper who had an entire country estate to keep running, but only by four other children, and an old professor who invited her into his book-crammed study twice a week for a conversation and tea.

Edmund changed from a bratty fourteen year old who missed his mother, to a well spoken diplomat and judge of the Just Court in the body of an evacuee who no longer had to pull himself along in the darkness of his older brother's shadow. It was a shock to Digory Kirke to see the boy who made fun of his sister's over active imagination had changed, to others, seemingly overnight.

Susan would instantly drop whatever she was holding or doing if one of them so much as mentioned the word Narnia around her, and quickly walk out of the room through the same way she entered, pressing her hands to her flushed cheeks to cool them down. On many a night, she and Charlotte would stay up, discussing the different passings of time between Britain and Narnia, among other topics.

Peter found it hard not to have everything and everyone agree with all of the things he said, or a plethora of Lords instantly by his side with each one of his beck and calls. The lack of power seemed to tug tightly at a chord within him, meaning he would often shut himself in a room writing and drawing out plans for battles the Narnian army had won by a land slide or the flick of a tail feather, trying his hardest to find one single fault in his skill.

Charlotte was only just managing to keep her head from sinking underwater. Her optimism in the hope of being able to get back to Narnia was diminishing like the wax of a candle faster and faster as the days went by. She often found herself knocking on the back panels of the wardrobe multiple times a day, in between performing mundane tasks, just to see if she could get back. But, she realised all of the attempts were tragically in vain, so her life resumed to the way it was before.

Life did seem to return back to normal for the siblings living under the roof of the Kirke's, however, when the post man of Coombie Holt village shoved two letters through the letter box, leaving them to unceremoniously land on the door mat covered in a thin layer of dust. Ivy, one of the maids had picked them up, and placed them on one of the two trays full of food for the dining table she was balancing on one arm, so the recipients of the envelopes could open them.

One letter had been addressed to the professor - Charlotte caught a glimpse of the torn envelope on the table after walking by with Edmund, reading the name Polly Plummer - and the other had been for the Pevensies.